


King

by bigsoup



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Basically platonic, angst angst angst, not editted, super messy lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 16:08:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15710658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsoup/pseuds/bigsoup
Summary: Vent fic done with no editting and also written in like 30 minutes lmaoGilgamesh loses it in his room and finds comfort in the Chaldea Master





	King

Gilgamesh has clutching his skull so tightly that his golden claws pierced the skin and sent blood to stain his golden locks. 

Tears blurred his vision as he glared hard at the stone tablets in front of him, tallying the death of his people. Blood hit the desk before the tears. Tears were not allowed to fall from this man, let alone be materialized in the first place.

The master and her servants were staying within his palace but it offered no consolation, they were more clueless and lost than he. And too playful, too young, too naive, too flippant. The master especially irritated him, acting as if she wasn’t in an apocalypse and witnessing countless deaths a day.

Turning like a dime, his feelings of grief and sorrow morphed into resentment and anger towards the young Master who had only spoken 5 words to him. Why did their servants have to do all the talking, anyway? Why were her eyes so trained on him- dissecting him and judging him-  
BLAMING HIM.

His projections began to spiral as he let out a snarl, other hand moving to his head to rip and pull at his hair. The stupid neglectful master, mistreating his subjects- his PEOPLE- and then acting like she was upset when they died. As if she could actually feel any grief for the ones that she had barely interacted with. People that she lived apart from on a pedestal of gold-

Gilgamesh let out an angry growl and stood abruptly- his chair falling to the floor. His hands jerked from his head, ripping hair and scalp. He paced madly and scratched his eyes in the crazed attempt to stop the tears from collect within them.

He threw himself onto his bed and screamed, ripping open pillows and blankets. His eyes were dry but blood and anger flashed in his mind to vividly for him to see.

It took 5 minutes of screaming and wreckage for him to calm down, blinking his way back to proper ‘seeing’ and staring down at the floor he was collapsed on top of. His body hurt from the marks he had left on it but that was numb compared to the urge to cry softly. 

But he couldn’t cry, King of Heroes, King of Uruk, King of Wealth and King of Myth, Gilgamesh was not to shed such tears. What he had already done in itself was blasphemous. He began to mentally kick himself, winding back up into another fit.

The soft click and introduction of cool air interrupted his thinking.

“DO NOT ENTER.” His voice came out an enraged command. The door shut and out followed the apology of one of his servants. Footsteps scurries away but the door opened again. This time the person entered before Gilgamesh could yell at them to leave. 

It was the young Master, her eyes meeting his with a tired serenity. The door clicked close behind her and she approached him at a sluggish walk. Gilgamesh scowled and stood up.

“You are not to be in my presence, mongrel. Leave at once should you-”

She sat down at the foot of his bed and leaned against it, looking at him. She blinked once and then laid her head against his shredded blanket, looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice nearly cracked, thick with emotion. “I...I don’t want you to think that we don’t care. We do. We care a lot. But sometimes we have to pretend that it’s normal and fixable to make it through.”

Gilgamesh quieted at this and sighed, walking to the bed and sitting atop it. 

“I give you permission to sit atop my bed and offer the remainder of your condolences.” His voice came out a soft whisper and he stared hard at the floor.

“Thank you…” Weight shifted next to him and the Master spoke again. “I’m sorry we were too late.”

“It’s...not your fault.” His voice was barely audible.

“I’m so sorry, King Gilgamesh. I’m so sorry that you have lost the people you loved and cherished.” She wanted to reach out to him but didn’t. Her throat made it impossible for her to continue talking, tears falling down her cheeks while she sniffled.

Gilgamesh melted at the use of his own name. A confirmation of his identity followed with a confident admission of her love for those who’ve died. The pride inside him told him to humbly accept the apology and send her on her way. The servant in him yearned to reach out to her and comfort her. Neither side won. It was a part of him hidden deep and tucked away since it’s open and close, something profoundly human that was only shown to one other person.

He wrapped his arms around the master and eased his face into her shoulder. Her body was warm and comforting around his as her arms pulled him closer and rubbed his back. Gilgamesh sobbed into her, ugliness bared in a display of guilt and very human pain.

She readily took it all in, crying as well as she openly allowed wails to exit her throat. Each cried for wars fought and friends lost, for the pain and the frustration and the feeling of small uselessness. Clinging to each other in a torn up and dark room. 

Gilgamesh stopped crying first and kept his face buried within the comfort of the fragile, shaking body that offered to protect him. It was strange to be so soothed by the prospect but at his display of weakness he was joined by another who was weaker than himself yet so desperately stood solid for his sake. The Master had been reduced to a trembling mess that let out the occasional weak sob.

Gilgamesh pulled away she her breathing finally began to even out and they looked at each other with snot and tear stained faces and puffy red eyes. The master swallowed and rubbed at her eyes.

“Cold water...let’s clean our faces with cold water...and get something to drink while we fix those scratches of yours.”

“I can’t be seen by others.” Gilgamesh was surprised at the rawness of his throat.

“Heh, me neither. My servants would flip...know any secret ways?”

“Indeed.”


End file.
